Across the Seven Seas
by dumpling47
Summary: One-shot. Sherlock may have wanted to be a pirate when he was younger, but it's not nearly as embarrassing as what Mycroft wanted to be! Purely crack.


_**Because I've written too many sad fics lately, and we're long overdue for some fluff!**_

* * *

"Aye, what's that I see across the shining blue seas? Why, it's the hidden treasure!" a six-year-old Sherlock Holmes cried with excitement. He proceeded to line up all his stuffed animals around the treasure chest in question. "Blimey, I didn't expect the chest to be so _big_!" He imagined that the animals were just as excited as he was - sure, it was only a game, but Sherlock was known for getting very into his pirate escapades, especially when no one else was around to witness. One of these days, he would be a pirate, and he didn't care what Mycroft of Mummy or anybody else said about it.

Well, yes, actually ... he did care.

Just not until Mycroft himself burst into the room.

"Sherlock, what in God's name -?" Mycroft snorted with laughter, giving his brother a snobbish look. He was dressed in a pirate outfit, after all, complete with the hat, a sword, and even an eye patch. "Sooo ... _this_ is what you do in your free time, is it, brother dear?"

"Go away!" Sherlock cried, eyes filling with tears. He was well aware that Mycroft wasn't going to appreciate his dream of one day becoming captain of a ship. "I said GO AWAY, Mycroft!"

The older brother chuckled to himself. "You're getting too old to play dress-up, anyway."

"Am not!"

"Oh, aren't you?" Mycroft shrugged. "Carry on, then." He exited the room in a slow, arrogant manner. The big mistake, though, was leaving his back turned. Sherlock had pulled out the miniature sword and had jabbed his brother straight in the bum.

Mycroft let out a howl as loud as anything, hopping about a foot in the air, sending their mother rushing in.

"What's gotten into you two?" she demanded, looking from one son to another. "Sherlock, have you just jabbed your brother with that sword?"

"Um, well ..." Sherlock hedged.

"_Sherlock_ ..."

"Well he started it!" the younger boy cried. "He was making fun of my pirate costume!"

Mrs. Holmes glanced around the room at the setup, that of which included a plethora of stuffed teddy bears and a chest of fake plastic jewels. It was all she could do herself to keep from grinning. "Mycroft," she said, before she could let loose her giggles, "Apologize to your brother."

"Sorry, Sherlock," the older boy mumbled.

Sherlock did the same, and the matter was settled. From that day forward, though, a singular thought was cemented in young Sherlock's brain: he'd be anything, anything at all, but not a pirate.

Never a pirate.

* * *

Sherlock had nearly forgotten the story until one day, when Mycroft paid a customary visit to the flat. He had been relating the thing to John, who had been half-grinning, half-looking sympathetic. Sherlock bristled; he was still rather sensitive about that subject.

"John!" he whined. "I thought you, of all people, would be on my side!"

"Of course I am, Sherlock," John said with a laugh. "It's just - who would've thought? The great Sherlock Holmes, originally wanting to sail the seven seas?"

"Yes, well, we all can dream," Sherlock said, a grin touching the edge of his mouth. "But as long as Mycroft and I are at war with each other, I might as well tell you what _he_ wanted to be when he was older!"

"Sherlock, no!" Mycroft jumped up, absolutely terrified.

"Oh, God, I wanna hear this," John said eagerly, leaning forward.

Sherlock doubled over with laughter. "A ballerina!" he said, between guffaws.

John burst out laughing. Mycroft flushed bright red.

"That's obviously not true -"

"Oh, trying to suppress the memory, are we? Don't get your hopes up, though, brother. You'll never fit into your leotard without lightening up on the cake a little!"

"SHERLOCK!" Mycroft roared, as John and Sherlock slapped their knees in their hysterics. Eventually he gave up, and, throwing his hands up in the air, left the flat.

"Is that true?" John asked, wiping at his eyes.

"One hundred percent," Sherlock said, grinning. "It's a wonder he tries to hold the pirate one over me, especially in his own position. I remember our mother encouraging it, actually, telling him he 'shouldn't let gender roles define him'."

"Still, though," John said, "Some people just aren't fit for the ballet, you know?"

"I'll say."

And so, on that note, life continued at 221B Baker Street, and the pirate scenario was no longer one of embarrassment, nor should it have been. Mycroft made a point of avoiding their residence for awhile, though, at least until he ceased to be the butt of such a terrible joke.

Not that _that_ happened for awhile.


End file.
